The Pale Verdict
"Did you see the light?" You ask the question before your feet have even crossed the threshold. Your voice is thin, scraped raw by the dry air of the corridor. You do not wait for an answer. You already know. You have seen it. It pulses behind the heavy oak door like a trapped heart, a slow, rhythmic throb of pale gold. "Margaret," a voice calls out behind you. It is Thomas. He is breathing...
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